She gave a little faltering cry, and turned white to the lips.
"You need have no fear," I continued. "I said Countess Lukstein, the wife, or rather, the widow. For a widow she has been this many a month."
"A widow!" she repeated. "A widow!" And she drew a long breath of relief, the colour returning to her cheeks. Then she turned defiantly on me. "And what, pray, is this Countess Lukstein to me?"
"God forbid that I should inquire into that!" said I sternly, and her eyes fell from my face. "Now, madam," I went on, "will you do me the favour I ask of you?"
"You ask it with such humility," she answered bitterly, "that I cannot find it in my heart to refuse you."
"I expected no less," I returned. "Let me assist you to dismount."
She drew quickly away.
"For what purpose? You would not take me to--to his wife."
"Even so!"
"Ah, not that! Not that! Mr. Buckler, I beseech you," she implored piteously, laying a trembling hand upon my shoulder. "I have not the courage."